


Death by Karaoke

by StarshipHufflebadger



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Embarrassing moments, F/M, Fluff, Funny, Karaoke, Mild Injury, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipHufflebadger/pseuds/StarshipHufflebadger
Summary: Reader needs to be patched up in med bay and then has a night out on the town, full of karaoke and embarrassing moments.  Mostly fluff.  Beginnings of Reader/Leonard.





	Death by Karaoke

              It has been an incredibly long week.  You have been stressed to the maximum, racing around the ship, trying to fix little technical problems that seemed to be springing up faster than normal.  This is horrible timing, as three of your department crew are confined to their quarters with some kind of severe flu, so their workload has fallen mostly on your shoulders along with just two others.   The three of you have been run ragged, so when it was announced that the ship would soon be docking at Yorktown for supplies and a chance to leave the ship for a few days, you were absolutely ecstatic.

              You have finally finished fixing a faulty console in the control area of the transporter room when the captain’s voice filters in through the nearby speakers, announcing that the ship has docked and crew can depart at any time once they’ve completed their duties, for a maximum of three days in the amazing spaceport city.   Though you have no family on Yorktown like some of the other crew, you are really looking forward to a few days where you can just unwind and relax a bit.   You are tossing your tools back into your kit a little haphazardly, distracted by your excitement, when you feel a sharp sting on the side of your hand.  You look down to see blood welling fast at the site of what appeared to be a fairly deep cut in the meatier part of your hand, between your pinky finger and wrist.

              You swear aloud and fumble for a cloth, thankful that you find a relatively clean one in your kit.  Sighing, you put the rest of your tools away left-handed, albeit more carefully than before, and shoulder your kit, still holding the cloth to your hand.   You head up the corridor, away from the transporter room and take a turn to the left, intending to return to your quarters to clean up your hand and get ready to leave, hoping to avoid having to have your injury looked at.   The thought of going to the med bay right now sends a litany of emotions through you.  You don’t want to go, first and foremost, because all you can think about right now is getting off the ship and having some fun, and taking a detour to med bay would be wasting precious time.  Secondly, you’re not overly fond of antiseptic smell of the place and thirdly, you’re both excited and nervous as hell at the prospect of seeing  _him_  again.  No, it’d be better if you just avoided the area altogether right now.

              “Are you alrigh’, Lieutenant?” Mr. Scott’s voice calls out behind you and you stop, internalizing a sigh and closing your eyes for a moment, realizing you’ve been caught.  You’d walked right by the Lieutenant Commander without realizing, your hand and bloody cloth obvious.  You turn to look at him, planting a somewhat convincing smile on your face as you slip your injured hand behind the kit hanging from your shoulder, hiding it from view.

              “Of course, sir.  Why do you ask?”  Your tone is politely puzzled, but Scotty just raises an eyebrow at you with an unimpressed tilt of the mouth, as if to say “ _do you really think I’m that stupid?”_

“Let me see your hand,” he says, approaching you and reaching out.  Sighing, you take your hand out from behind the kit and remove the blood-stained cloth, showing him the wound.

              “It’s not that bad,” you say quickly, as he makes a tutting noise while examining it.

              “Aye, it’ll heal just fine,” he agrees, and you feel a flicker of hope, but he continues on.  “But I want you to get it looked at.  Doctor McCoy is still up in the med bay. If you go now, you’ll still have plenty of time on the town tonight.”

              “Oh, but sir, I really don’t think-” you begin to protest, but Scotty holds up a hand to silence you.

              “Just go, Lassie.  The last thing I need is  _you_  out of commission as well with some kind of infection, all because you’re being too stubborn to get it checked,” he says, frowning, and you sigh, knowing he’s right.    You definitely don’t want to leave him even more shorthanded, so you nod reluctantly, taking the cloth back from him and pressing it against your hand once more, as the wound has started to bleed again.

              “Yes sir,” you say, trying to hide your disappointment, and he smiles wearily at you and claps you on the shoulder.

              “Good girl,” he says, nodding at you, then hurries off on his way, probably trying to find Keenser before the two of them depart for the city.  

              You sigh and change course, taking a right instead the left and heading for the med bay.  The thought of seeing Dr. McCoy makes your stomach flip-flop and you mentally chastise yourself.  You’re an adult, for crying out loud.    Too old for this ridiculous crush.   But you can’t help it;  ever since you’d upgraded the consoles in the med bay and spent several hours around him, you’d been head over heels in love.  He’d spent most of those hours chatting with you, as it had been a slow day for him.   He was so funny in that dry, witty way, and you’d thought he was one of the nicest people you’d ever met.  He seemed to have enjoyed himself that day as well, but ever since you realized how hard you were crushing on him, you’d avoided med bay whenever he was around.  Any time you felt his eyes on you, your cheeks turned nearly as red as your uniform tunic.    You’d only had to see him once in the last few weeks, for mandatory crew inoculations, but he’d been so busy with his work that he barely had time to say more than hello as he’d given you the shot.  It had taken your face nearly fifteen minutes to fade back to its normal colour after that particular encounter, and if you really thought about it, you could still feel his gentle touch on your arm as he lifted your sleeve.

              You gnaw on your lower lip as your feet take you to med bay without conscious thought.  Before you know it, you’re there, and there’s no one in the waiting area.  In fact, everything looks pretty deserted, and you briefly wonder if perhaps you  _are_  too late, that maybe the staff have already left for their leave.   You hover on the spot for a moment, considering turning around and leaving, ready with the excuse that no one was around, but you had promised Scotty and you don’t want to disappoint him.  Sighing, you figure it’s best to at least attempt to see if anyone is still around.

              “Hello?” you call, straining your neck a little, but you can’t see all of the med bay from where you’re standing, and you don’t want to just wander in without invitation.

              “Oh, hello Y/N,” comes the deep, southern voice of Dr. McCoy.  “Christine must have stepped out for a moment.  Did you want to see me?”   He comes fully into view, wiping his freshly washed hands on a towel, looking casually gorgeous with a stethoscope tossed around his neck, the ends hanging over his blue tunic.  

              “I, uh,” you stammer, thrown by the sight of him. Apparently your crush had intensified even more since the last time you’d seen him in the mess hall a few days ago, and you’re momentarily tongue-tied.

              “What did you do to your hand?” he asks, saving you from attempting to find the words as he spots your bloodstained cloth.

              “I, uh, cut it,” you say, your voice small.  You clear your throat slightly, the pink beginning to creep up your cheeks already as he takes your hand gently in his and removes the cloth, prompting a wince from you as it sticks briefly to the cut.

              “Sorry,” he says, not missing your flinch.  “Yeah, that looks pretty deep.  Come on in, have a seat on biobed four.”  He leads you towards one of the beds in the empty med bay, and you silently seat yourself on it, putting your kit down on the visitor chair nearby.  

              “So how come I haven’t seen you around lately, Y/N?” he asks conversationally as he gathers a couple of tools and bandages.  You swallow and think about what you’re going to say, so you don’t completely mess up and sound like an idiot.

              “Been busy,” you say, and you’re unpleasantly unsurprised to hear your voice sounding a lot softer and quieter than usual.  “We’re shorthanded right now.”

              “Ah, right, Mr. Scott was just telling me.  Dr. M’Benga has been caring for them, but I heard it’s a particularly bad flu.”

              You nod, not trusting yourself to speak as he takes your hand again, examining the wound more closely.  You take the opportunity to look at him while he’s not looking at you, observing the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s concentrating, the way his lips press together.  You quickly look away as he straightens up, finished with his examination.

              “Unfortunately, the dermal regenerator is broken right now,” he says, and you hear a note of frustration in his voice.  “It’s one of the things I was going to pick up tomorrow in the city.  Are you gonna be okay overnight with this wound just bandaged?”

              “Yes,” you say, shrugging and looking down at the cut instead of meeting his gaze.  “I’ve had worse.”

              “Alright.  We can arrange a time to meet tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon, and I’ll take care of it for you.”  He begins to clean the wound as you nod mutely, your heart cartwheeling at the thought of seeing him again so soon.  The faint beeping coming from the biobed starts to speed up and he looks at you, frowning slightly in concern.  “Are you alright?  Your heart rate just sped up considerably.”    You swallow the impulse to panic as you try to think of an excuse fast.

“It just hurts,” you choke out, horrified that your own body has betrayed you and alerted him. You can feel your cheeks burning as he looks at you sympathetically.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice kind.  “I’ll try to be more careful.”    You nearly whimper with relief that he bought your excuse and go back to watching him work, feeling a bit shaky.  You don’t even feel the sting as he cleans and dresses your wound;  all you can focus on is the fact that he’s touching your skin.  His hands are warm and gentle and you watch them, entranced, as he expertly fixes you up.

              In no time at all the wound is clean and dressed, a few lengths of gauze wrapped around your hand, holding the dressing in place.  As he cleans up the bloody gauze he’d used to clean the wound, you manage a weak smile at him, which he returns with a friendly smile of his own.

              “Where are you headed tonight?” he asks, tossing the gauze and typing a couple of notes into a PADD, presumably recording the injury in your file.  “I assume you’ll want to unwind after all your hard work this week.  I’ve seen you running all over the ship the last few days, you must be exhausted.”   Your mind reels briefly at the fact that he knows how hard you’ve been working, and that he’s noticed your presence around the ship.  

              “Ah, just some bar a friend told me about,” you say, shrugging again, playing with the hem of your shirt.  “I can’t remember the name, but it’s right near that really good Vietnamese place.  She said there’s karaoke and tasty drinks.”  You bite the inside of your lower lip, willing yourself to stop talking. He’s probably not interested in what you have to say; you have a hard time picturing him in a karaoke bar, anyway.

              “That sounds fun, I think I know the place,” he says, shooting you a smile as you slip off the bed, miraculously not falling over as your feet hit the floor.  You pick up your pack, nodding again, and stand awkwardly, waiting for your chance to get away.  “Maybe I’ll check it out at some point tonight,” he says musingly, more to himself than to you.  Your eyes widen a little, and force yourself to smile at him, hoping you don’t look as scared as you feel.

              “Thank you,” you say, holding up your bandaged hand.  “See you tomorrow, then?”

              “Sure thing, Y/N.  Maybe see you tonight, even.”  He smiles and waves as you give a little nod of acknowledgement before turning and walking away, willing yourself to go at a normal pace.    Once you’re out of sight of the med bay, you break into a powerwalk and are in your quarters within a minute or so.  You exhale loudly and take a long, deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.  You slip your fingers to your neck carotid point, feeling your pulse galloping away.

              After your heart rate has more or less returned to normal, you begin to get changed after having a lightning quick sonic shower, messaging Abby and telling her you’d meet her soon, explaining you’d been held up.   Your mind is on Leonard the entire time, causing you to dress inattentively to the point that you nearly fall over while attempting to pull on your clothes, because you were mistakenly trying to pull a sleeve onto your leg.

              Eventually you manage to dress without killing yourself, make sure your hair looks good, and then head out.  You meet your friend at the bar you’d told Leonard about, your thoughts still a bit preoccupied.    You chat with her for a few minutes, explaining how you hurt your hand when she asks, but you’re still distracted, unable to focus on the conversation.  She leads you into the bar after a few and you look around, amazed, as your thoughts properly return to the present for the first time in over an hour.   The bar is full of the most diverse group of alien races you’ve ever seen and you simply watch for a while, the scientist part of you extremely excited as you recognize races and species you’ve heard of but have never seen in person.     After a while, you grow used to all the unusual people around you and Abby comes back from the bar with two neon orange slushy drinks, complete with some kind of foreign fruit on a stick.

              “What are those?” you shout over the loud music, taking the glass she hands you.

              “No idea, but the bartender said that it’s a human favourite!” she calls back, just as loudly, as she removes the cocktail stick from her drink and examines the fruit. You do the same, peering down at it in the dim light.  It’s bright pink with yellow spots, and normally you would be hesitant to try something so unknown but the atmosphere of the bar is making you feel adventurous, so you take a nibble.  Juice bursts in your mouth as your break the skin and you gasp at the flavour.  It’s sweet and tangy and you toss the rest into your mouth immediately, chewing it up and swallowing.

              “That was so good!” You shout to her, grinning, encouraging her to eat hers. “I hope the drinks taste like the fruit!”   You take your glass and stir the slush for a moment before taking a sip.  It doesn’t taste quite the same as the fruit, but it’s just as delicious.  You begin to gulp it down, stopping when a third or so of it is gone,  only because a piercing pain has suddenly shot through your head and throat, making you yelp and cringe.

              “Ha! Brain freeze!”  Abby giggles at you as you press your tongue desperately to the roof of your mouth, wincing as you wait for the sharp pain to fade, a hand to your forehead.   After a few agonizing seconds the pain is gone, though you’ve learned your lesson and take smaller, slower sips of your drink now.  

              Even drinking more slowly, it doesn’t take you long to finish.  Abby finishes hers around the same time, and you head to the bar to get the next round.  You return with dark teal drinks this time, again on recommendation from the bartender. This one has a rich, almost earthy flavour, offset by sweetness from something you don’t recognize.   You enjoy it immensely, though your friend isn’t as fond of this one.  You end up finishing half of hers while she flounces off to get something else.    By this point you’re feeling warm and fuzzy, and a great wave of contentment washing over you, punctuated with the odd burst of giggles.  You can’t remember feeling this mellow for a very long time, and it feels so great after the stressful week.

              Your friend returns with a long, thin tray laden with shots in many different colours, looking excited.

              “That Denobulan guy at the bar bought these for us,” she says, giggling and gesturing towards the alien who’s watching the two of you from his seat at the bar.  He smiles at you and raises his drink, and you smile back, picking up one of the shot glasses and raising it towards him, thanking him.

              “Did he want anything for it?” you ask, turning back to your friend and sniffing whatever is in the shotglass you’re holding.  It has a citrusy tang to it, and you toss it back as your friend shakes her head, taking one of the shots herself.

              “Nah, he was just talking to me while I was trying to decide what to order, and when he found out it was my first time in Yorktown, he bought us these as a welcome!”

              Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder about the advisability of accepting drinks from an unknown, albeit friendly alien man, but you’re too tipsy and chill to really care.  You grin and grab another shot, clinking it against the one your friend has just picked up, and down them at the same time.  Just as the two of you finish the last two shots on the tray, a blue-skinned man dressed in a suit adorned with sequins gets up on the small stage at the back of the bar, calling for everyone’s attention and announcing that karaoke is about to begin.   You watch, laughing, as two nurses from the Enterprise are the first ones on the stage, performing an upbeat song that you’re unfamiliar with.    They receive a rousing round of applause when they finish, despite not singing very well, and you clap along with everyone else, suddenly feeling a strong desire to get up on the stage yourself, despite a general dislike for being in the spotlight.

              After a classical song, and then a strange alien song with a very aggressive beat but weirdly soft lyrics to accompany it, Abby jumps off of her stool and grabs your hand, tugging you down off of yours.   You follow her without protest, weaving through the people and joining the line at the side of the stage, scrolling through the enormous list of songs to choose from on the tablet one of the workers hands you.  There are all kinds of songs in languages you’ve never even seen before, but you quickly find the English ones and are delighted to see they have a great selection of classical music, including some of your absolute favourites.

              Abby chooses a song that you’re both familiar with and hands it back to the worker, who passes the tablet to the next person.  In no time you’re up on stage, and though seeing a crowd staring back at you would normally make your heart stop with fear, this time you’re sufficiently buoyed by the buzz of the drinks to not care one bit. You and Abby begin to belt out your song, to cheers and applause even while you’re still singing.  You actually sound pretty good together, and for the first time in weeks you feel alive with happiness.

_As long as I know how to love,_  
_I know I’ll be alive_  
_I’ve got all my life to live_  
_I’ve got all my love to give_  
_and I’ll survive_  
_I will survive!_

              You and Abby bow deeply as the song ends, drinking in the glee as everyone in the bar shouts and stomps their approval, the applause deafening.  Flushed with success, you head back to your seats, giggling together.  After a while, you decide you need to go another round on the stage and so you both flounce back to the line and reclaim the tablet, excitedly flipping through the songs.    You’re surprised when you find one of your favourite classical songs on the list, and try to convince Abby to sing it with you, even though she’s not familiar with it. She decides she wants to do a different song and suggests that you both sing your own songs, but solo.  You agree, ignoring a flicker of trepidation somewhere in your gut.  The alcohol is still giving you a strong sense of confidence and fun, however, so you’re not too worried about it.

              Abby is on first and you stand at the side of the stage, clapping along and cheering for her when appropriate, but also looking around the bar as you wait.   You see a few familiar faces from the ship, but for the most part, the audience is a sea of strangers.  Just as Abby finishes her song and the bar erupts into cheers, however, several people that have just walked in catch your eye.   Even through the dim ambient light and the glare of the stage lights, you can tell that it’s him.   Leonard has just arrived, and you’re pretty sure that the captain and a couple of the other bridge crew are with him.  Without the booze in your system, the sight would have been enough to make you turn tail and run, but currently you simply accept the microphone from Abby as she prances off to the side of the stage and hands it to you.  You’re still full of that warm, wonderful feeling of carefree drunkenness, and you decide that Leonard needs to be made aware of your talents.  If he knows how well you sing, perhaps maybe  _he’ll_  start crushing on  _you_.   You know in the back of your head that it’s a ridiculous thought, but it doesn’t stop you from grinning at the crowd as the music starts, tapping your foot to the beat.

              Your pour your heart and soul into the performance, really selling it to the crowd, who are loving your enthusiasm.   You glance in Leonard’s direction a couple of times, not for long enough to read any kind of reaction from him, but you do see that he’s watching you.   When it comes to the bridge of the song, you throw caution to the wind, look directly at him, and sing seductively.

 

_Last night I had this dream about you,_  
_In this dream, I’m dancing right beside you_  
_There’s nothing wrong with just a little bit of fun,  
_ _We were dancing all night long_

 

              You point at him with the first “you” and sing all four lines directly to him, shaking your hips in time with the song.   You can’t see his face very well because of the stage lights, but you note that he seems surprised, but then you can see him smile.   A wave of excitement rolls through you, and you continue singing at him, doing your best to wow him.

_Oh, I don’t know what to do_  
_About this dream and you  
_ _I hope this dream comes true_

              You finally look away at the end of the third line and sing the rest of the song for the whole crowd, wishing you could see his face properly.  You think that he looks pleased, but it’s very hard to tell from here. Nevertheless, you finish the song with as much enthusiasm as you started with, to raucous applause at the end. You bow and grin at the audience, panting, squinting as you try to spot Leonard again, but with the crowd constantly moving, it’s hard to pinpoint him.   You hand the microphone to the next person and hop off the stage, where you are immediately accosted by Abby, praising your performance and asking who you were singing to.

              “Oh, just some random person, I was just playing,” you say airily, hiding the truth until you find out for sure if Leonard was actually pleased.  You want to seek him out, but the bar has gotten quite crowded since you’d last sat down, and it’s hard to navigate towards the back.  You and Abby get swept up in conversation with some of the other Enterprise crew and you momentarily forget about Leonard as you chat.   After a while, you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since lunch when your stomach snarls loudly at you.    You are starting to come down from the buzz of the drinks and decide that feeding yourself is a better option at the moment than drinking more.  You excuse yourself, feeling the buzz draining quickly as you squeeze your way through the crowd.  You earlier exhaustion is starting to creep back up on you, and combined with the hunger you’re feeling, you’re quickly losing your taste for the bar scene.

              As you emerge from between two rather large aliens near the back of the bar, you catch sight of Leonard nearby, sipping a drink and talking to Captain Kirk and Mr. Sulu.    His right side is facing you, so he doesn’t realize you’re there, but the sight of him suddenly brings the memory of what you’d just done rushing back.  Only now, without the drink making you feel confident and insanely giddy, all you can feel is horror.  You’d sung to him, in a suggestive way, in front of a huge crowd of people.  You’d winked at him.  Pointed at him.  You were sure there would be no doubt in his mind that you’d been singing directly at him.

              Your knees feel weak as reality washes over you. What could he be thinking now? Was he horrified by what you’d done? Embarrassed?  Even worse, was he angry?  You’re pretty sure that Jim and Hikaru would absolutely know that you’d been singing to him too, and your face is absolutely burning with embarrassment as you duck behind a large green alien, hiding yourself from view.    You need to get the hell out of there, as fast as possible, before one of them sees you.   Luckily, the alien you’re hiding behind is heading towards the exit and you follow closely behind her until she’s level with Leonard and the others, then quickly dart around in front of her so that you’re hidden again.  For a split second terror shoots through you as Jim turns his head and seems to catch your eye.  You’re out the door within seconds, though, and when no one follows you, you breathe a sigh of relief at the close call.

              You hurry back towards the ship, only pausing briefly at a small café near the boarding area to grab a sandwich and a bottle of juice.   You head back on board the Enterprise and thankfully meet no one on your way back to your quarters.  You lock your door firmly and drop into the chair at your desk, tossing the sandwich and juice carelessly onto the surface before putting your head in your hands, groaning.  You can never face him again.  You’re sure of that.  The very thought sends a chill of dread through you.  You shake your head with a long, drawn out sigh.  It isn’t like you to get so drunk;  you wonder if the alien properties of the booze made the loss of inhibitions even stronger than normal somehow.  It didn’t really matter, anyway;  you were already trying to figure out how to avoid Leonard and the rest of the bridge crew.  You hope that Scotty will not find out about it, but unfortunately you’re sure he probably will.

              Your stomach snarls into the silence and you sigh, unwrapping the sandwich you’d bought and eat it without enthusiasm, though you note somewhere in the back of your mind that it’s quite tasty.  You drain the juice in a couple of gulps, get rid of the trash and flop down on your bed, still in your clothes.   You sigh again, staring at the ceiling, rubbing your temples.  You know you’re being a bit overdramatic in your own head, but you’re pretty sure your career at Starfleet is now over.  
  
              “Lights off,” you call, and the room is plunged into darkness.   You lie there, staring into the dark, trying not to think about anything.  At this point, you’re thinking that maybe when you wake up in the morning, this will all have been a stupid dream.  You hope, anyway.  You close your eyes after a while and try to will yourself to sleep, but to no avail.   There’s a knock on your door after what feels like hours, startling you out of a light doze.  You start to sit up, but then stop, frowning.  It’s the middle of the night, you can easily use the excuse of “I was asleep” if anyone asks why you didn’t answer, and you’re really not in the mood for company right now.  So you lie back down and turn over, your back to the door and let out a heavy sigh.   Eventually you hear footsteps fading quickly as the person walks away and you wonder vaguely who it had been.  You guess that it was probably Abby, wondering where you had disappeared to.  You fish your comm out from an inside pocket of your dress and send her a quick message before attempting to fall asleep again, sighing into the darkness.

* * *

 

              You wake very early the next morning have a blissful moment of ignorance as you blink the sleep from your eyes, and then it all comes rushing back to you.  You groan, covering your eyes with your hand, cringing at the memories.  You pat the sheets groggily, trying to find your comm, flipping it open once you manage to grab it.  It’s far earlier than you wanted to be up, but you also realize that if you get up and out of the ship right now, hardly anyone will be walking around, and you’ll be able to avoid everyone from last night.

              You dress quickly and look down at your hand, remembering that you are supposed to meet Leonard today in med bay, assuming that he manages to fix the dermal regenerator.  You shake your head.  There’s no way you’re going to willingly face him today.  Preferably never again, but realistically you know you’ll have to see him sooner or later.  You aren’t going to do it any sooner than you have to, though.

              You remove the bandage that he had put on the night before and examine the wound.  It looks okay to you and so you carefully clean it, then apply a new, clean bandage, wrapping some gauze around your hand and clumsily taping it in place, one-handed.   You’re sure that it’ll be fine – people used to heal manually all the time, there is no reason you  _have_  to go and get your skin mended.  Satisfied with your somewhat sloppy dressing job, you pack a few toiletries into a backpack and pull it onto your back.   You’re not planning on coming back here tonight.

              After all, you’re on Yorktown.  Half the crew is staying off-ship, either with family or in one of the luxurious hotels.  There’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy these things as well.  As an added bonus, you will be able to slowly accept what happened and perhaps start feeling better about it without having to worry about coming across Leonard in the process.

              You head out of your quarters and through the ship, which, as you predicted, is very quiet.  You make it out of the door and into the city without incident, for which you are incredibly grateful.   You have breakfast in a cute little patio restaurant not too far from the ship, and then you begin to wander.   There are plenty of things in Yorktown to keep your attention and you’re fascinated as you walk around, staring at the scenery. It amazes you that this entire city is suspended in a globe in space, especially as it seems so much just like a normal city, until you look up and see the vastness of the globe, the arms of the city stretching in every direction.

              You quickly find a museum of natural history of the planets in this quadrant of the galaxy and wander around inside for nearly three hours, absolutely fascinated by everything you see.  There’s even a small petting zoo inside, with some fluffy, mammal-like animals for people to pet and play with.  You seem to make good friends with a dog-like animal, who is extremely happy with the attention and slobbers all over your hands in its enthusiasm. After washing your hands as well as you can without taking off your bandage, you head out of the museum and begin looking for a hotel to stay in.

              After walking a kilometre or two down one of the long arms of the city, you find a cozy little place, only a couple of stories tall, tucked in against a green, tree-filled park.  You are happy to find that they still have vacancies, and settle down in a third floor room that has a balcony overlooking the park.  You spend the rest of the afternoon lying in a deck chair by the hotel’s small pool, reading a novel you’d been wanting to finish for weeks and sipping a few tropical drinks.  You actually manage to forget what had happened in the bar the night before for a while, and you’re feeling a lot more relaxed by the time the evening rolls around.

              You head out of the hotel to dine at a restaurant you spotted nearby that looked promising, and you’re just tucking into your meal on the outdoor patio when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

              “Oh, uh, hi Christine,” you say unenthusiastically, as Christine Chapel and a few other nurses pause by the little fence surrounding the patio, smiling at you.  

              “Leonard was looking for you,” she tells you, smiling, and you hate that you can see a knowing look in her eyes.  It tells you that she knows far more than you would like her to, and you put down your fork with a sigh.  “He said you’re overdue for an appointment with the new dermal regenerator,” she says, gesturing at your hand, where your dingy, aging bandage is painful obvious.

              “Oh, yeah, well… I’ll go see him tomorrow,” you say evasively, buying yourself time to think by taking a sip of the sweet cherry wine the waitress had just set down in front of you.  “I just got caught up in the sights, y’know, Yorktown is so big…”

              To your relief, the other nurses are nodding in agreement with you and looking around, but Christine delicately raises her right eyebrow, suggesting just a hint of skepticism.  You try to smile convincingly at her, and she seems to decide not to press you… for now.

              “Well, I’ll tell him to expect you tomorrow then,” she says with another smile, and walks away with the others, heading back in the general direction of the ship.  You let out a sigh of relief, finish your dinner and head back to your hotel, where you spend an enjoyable evening flopped on the incredibly comfortable bed, watching trashy alien TV and not thinking about anything in particular.   Before bed, you peel off the bandage and wince as it sticks a bit.  The wound beneath it doesn’t look great – it’s pink around the edges and seems a bit swollen, but you brush it off.  You’re sure it’s fine, it just needs cleaning and a dressing change, so you carefully do exactly that before turning in for the night.

              The next morning, the moment you wake up you know that something is wrong.  It hurts to bend your hand and the area with the wound is throbbing.  Biting your lip, you remove the dressing you’d applied the night before and cringe at the sight of the wound.  It’s now an angry red around the edges, very swollen and you can see a good deal of greenish pus inside it.  Clearly it’s become infected, and quite quickly too.  You remember how the dog-like beast from the petting zoo had slobbered all over your hand and wonder, suddenly anxious, if it had given you some kind of disease.  

              As much as the sight of the wound worries you, you just aren’t ready to face Leonard yet.  The thought of walking into medbay and talking to him is just too much to handle, so, against your inner better judgement, you clean the wound as best as you can, apply an antibiotic ointment you’d brought with you and reapply a clean bandage.  It actually feels a lot better after the dressing change, so you decide to go about your day as you’d planned.  

              You spend the day wandering all over Yorkton, taking in plenty of sites and doing some shopping as well, picking up some cute clothes for future shore leaves and even a small alien plant that coos happily when stroked to brighten up your quarters.   By evening, however, you could no longer ignore your hand.  It had become increasingly painful to bend throughout the day, and now it was nearly impossible to move your hand without whimpering.  

              Cringing even before you removed the dressing, you close your eyes and peel back the tape.  Slowly, you open one eye and then the other, and gasp at how terrible the wound looks now.  The pus has more than doubled since the morning and there are angry red streaks going away from the wound in all directions.  Your heart pounds as you realize how stupid you’ve been;  the infection was so much worse now than it had been, and it could’ve been prevented if you’d just sucked it up and gone back to the ship this morning.

              Sighing and realizing there was no other option at this point, you pack your purchases into your bag (except for your plant, which you carry in your uninjured hand) and wearily head back to the ship. Thankfully by this time in the evening, most of the crew had either gone out partying or retired to their quarters, so there aren’t many people wandering around the corridors.  You deposit your bag and plant in your room and reluctantly head up to the med bay, trying to ignore both the throbbing pain of your  hand and the frantic pounding of your heart.   You’re hoping beyond hope that Leonard is out for the evening, leaving Dr. M’benga in charge, which would allow you to have your wound seen to and return to your quarters without issue.

              The first person you see as you round the last corner to med bay is Christine, looking down at a PADD near the front desk. You screech to a halt and duck back around the corner as you spot Leonard passing by farther into the med bay and swear softly to yourself.  Of  _course_  he’s still there.  You peek around the corner, wondering if you should escape before it’s too late, when you realize Christine has spotted you and is watching you with one eyebrow raised, a half-amused, half-bemused look on her face.

              “What are you doing, Y/N?” she asks as you hurry over to the desk, scooting forward to avoid being seen.  

              “Shhh! Keep your voice down,” you whisper urgently. Her eyebrow raises slightly higher at this and you hurry on before she starts asking questions.  “Is Dr. M’Benga on?  My hand is infected and it needs to be seen but I am trying to avoid Dr. McCoy.” You figure honesty is the best policy at this point, and ignore her continued expression of amusement.  “Please help me out, I’m begging you.”

              “Well… they’re both here.  I’ll see what I can do,” she says after a long moment’s pause, still eyeing you closely, and you notice that that infuriating knowing look of hers is back. “Go to biobed seven, I’ll close the curtains around you.”

              “Thank you so much,” you say gratefully, ducking around the corner after checking the coast was clear and slipping into the indicated area. You hop up onto the bed as Christine gives you a quick smile and pulls the curtains closed.  You sit for several moments, fidgeting endlessly, listening for sounds of other patients being seen, but it doesn’t seem like there’s really anyone around.  You can hear Christine talking softly to someone, but she’s too far away to hear properly, so you can only imagine that she’s telling M’Benga to come and see you.   The curtains open and Christine reappears.

              “He’s coming now,” she tells you, smiling brightly. You wilt in relief, thinking she’d done what you asked, and smile back at her.  She gives you a sly wink before turning and walking away, and you don’t really have time to process the possible reasons behind it before he’s there, and you’re staring wordlessly at him, your heart slamming against your ribs.

              “Well, Y/N, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up at all,” Leonard says, his tone half amused, half exasperated, arms crossed over his chest.  You mouth wordlessly for a moment, a torrent of emotions flooding through you: shock and indignation at Christine’s betrayal, fear and anxiety at seeing Leonard so suddenly, and pain, because you’d grabbed onto the edge of the biobed and squeezed instinctively when you’d seen him come around the corner, causing considerable pain to your hand.  Leonard sees your flinch of pain and quick release of the bed and steps forward with a frown, holding his hand out for yours.  “May I?”

              You swallow thickly and shakily raise your injured hand, holding it out to him and looking away.  You suck in a breath as he removes the bandage, biting your lip to stop yourself from whimpering in pain.   You hear his slight but sharp intake of breath as he sees the wound and can feel your cheeks turning red, knowing that he’s wondering why the hell you hadn’t come back sooner.

              “Why on earth did you wait so long to come back?!” he asks, his voice incredulous as he turns your hand slightly to examine it all.   You shrug helplessly, still not meeting his gaze, hanging your head slightly.  “Were your hands really dirty?  The pus has a green tinge to it,” he says, still holding your hand steady.

              “I – I pet some kind of alien dog yesterday and it drooled on my hand.  I didn’t realize any had gotten under the bandage but I think it must have,” you say in a small voice, speaking to your knees.  You hear him grunt and then sigh, and your stomach flipflops as you worry that he’s angry with you.  

              “Well, this needs a really good cleaning and the infection needs to heal before we can use the dermal regenerator.  I’ll be right back, sit tight,” he says, and before you know it, he’s gone again.  Almost immediately Christine pokes her head back in and you glare at her, especially when you see that she’s grinning.

              “I told you I wanted M’Benga!” you hiss to her, but she smiles and tutts at you.

              “Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” she whispers, winking again before disappearing, seconds before Leonard reappears with supplies in his hands.

              “This is going to hurt,” he says, and you’re surprised at how gentle his voice is.  You’d been expecting the worst, both because of the bar incident, and because you’d avoided coming in when you knew you should have.  The lack of anger or irritation catches you off guard and you look up for the first time as you let him take your hand again, your eyes meeting as he looks down at you.   You immediately look away and bite your lip, chewing on it and holding your breath as he doesn’t move for a moment.  You’re terrified he’s about to speak, to bring up what you’d done, but after a moment he simply reaches for his supplies and warns you that he’s about to clean the wound.

              You cry out softly in pain as he gently cleans the wound, swallowing hard and looking away from your hand as he apologizes and continues on, clearly trying to be as careful as he can.  By the time he’s finished, tears have welled in your eyes from the pain and a single tear rolls down your cheek as you attempt to control your breathing, not wanting to show him just how much it hurts.

              Leonard sets your hand gently on your lap and reaches out, brushing away the tear making its way down your cheek, his touch soft and gentle. You sniff in surprise and despite your misgivings, you look up at him again, his face swimming a bit blurrily through the unshed tears.

              “I’m sorry, I know that’s got to hurt a lot,” he says gently, squeezing your shoulder.  You shake your head, trying to convey wordlessly that it wasn’t his fault.  You look away again, trying to imagine anything but being on stage in the bar, trying to imagine anything but his face as he watched you.  A moment later, however, he reaches out and hooks a finger under your chin, turning your head and tilting it up a bit so you’ll look at him.

              “Look, I know why you’ve been avoiding me,” he begins, and you feel your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.  This is it.  This is when he tells you that you horribly embarrassed him and he never wants to see you again after this.  You fight back the urge to cry and try to look away, but he still has hold of your chin.   “But Y/N, there’s no need to hide. You’re actually a pretty good singer, and honestly, I-” he falters for a second, then gives you a small half-smile and continues, “I liked that you were singing to me.”  

There’s a ringing silence as you stare at him uncomprehendingly.  You were so prepared for him to have hated it, so prepared to be embarrassed for the rest of your life, that you’d never actually considered that there was a possibility he’d  _liked_  it.

              “I…” you try to speak, but words fail the first time. You try again.  “But I looked like an idiot… I never get drunk, and the one time I do…” you trail off, shaking your head slightly, but he smiles.

              “I thought it was cute,” he says, with a small shrug. “You were having a great time and like I said, I liked what you sang to me.”  He meets your eyes again and this time, you don’t look away.   “I’m just trying to reassure you,” he says after a moment, his hand resting gently on your shoulder again, “that you did nothing wrong, and nothing embarrassing.  I’m honestly flattered and…” He pauses again, and you’re amazed to see that he actually looks somewhat bashful.  “I’m pleased.”

              “You’re…  really?” you ask, your heart suddenly leaping with hope, even as your brain struggles to process this unexpected development.  He chuckles and nods, and suddenly you can feel his warm hand on your neck, his thumb gently stroking the skin there.  Your heart rate speeds up, the biobed beeping slightly in warning, but you both ignore it. You’re frozen in place, looking up at him, and you realize a split second before it happens that he’s about to kiss you.  Your eyes flutter closed as his lips touch yours, goosebumps forming all down your arms as his hand moves up to just below your jaw, his thumb now stroking your cheek.  Your uninjured hand raises as if by its own volition and hovers between you for a moment, before you reach forward slightly and just barely touch his chest, your fingers resting on the smooth fabric of his tunic.  

              After a few long moments, he pulls away, and you feel slightly breathless as your eyes slowly open, blinking a couple of times before looking at him again.  You bite your lip, this time bashfully, and he smiles again, stroking your cheek once more before letting go.  

              “Let me finish with your hand first.  Then we can talk,” he says, reaching for your injured hand, which you’d nearly forgotten about in the shock of the kiss.  You nod weakly and let him take your hand, reliving the kiss over in your head, your lips tingling slightly at though he was still kissing you.

              He makes quick work of your hand, spreading some medicated gel onto it and dressing it, wrapping the gauze around the palm of your hand several times to keep it in place.  When he’s done, it feels so much better that you sigh in relief and give him a genuine smile.

              “Thank you, it feels much better,” you say, your voice a bit hoarse.  

              “Anytime,” he says, tossing the used supplies away. “That gel should kill the infection in a day or two, and then we can see about using the dermal regenerator.”

              You nod to show you understand and swing your feet slightly, looking down at your bandaged hand, then back up at him.  He’s looking down at you already, and reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear.

              “Why don’t we go down to the mess hall?  I think we could both use some food and a hot drink,” he suggests, and you smile, then nod.  He holds out a hand and you take it with your uninjured one, hopping down from the bed and following him as he leads you out of the biobed areas and towards the entrance of med bay.  Christine is standing nearby and grins when she sees you holding hands with Leonard. You shoot her a rueful look and then mouth ‘thank you’ at her, though you’re still in a bit of shock at what she’d done, though the longer he holds your hand, the more grateful you are for her dupe.

              “I will say one thing, though, Y/N,” he says after a moment, when you’ve walked about halfway to the mess hall in silence, still holding hands.  “I’m disappointed that you didn’t come to me sooner, especially as I know that wound must have already been pretty infected this morning.  Next time, I don’t care what you’ve done, embarrassing or not, I want you to come to me.  Okay?” His voice sounds stern but you can hear the concern behind it.  You smile slightly and nod, squeezing his hand.

              “Okay,” you agree, nodding. “Doctor knows best, right?” you say teasingly, and he smirks.

              “Absolutely.  I wish others on this crew would see it that way,” he says, and you laugh.  After walking in silence for a few more minutes, you stop, tugging on his hand so he’ll stop too, and turn to him.

              “Thank you,” you say, looking up at him.  He smiles, but looks puzzled.

              “For what?”

              “For… not making fun of me. For not getting mad at me for not coming in sooner, even though I was really stupid about that,” you say, holding up your bandaged hand.  “I was so scared that you hated me after I sang at you in front of everyone that I dreaded coming back here.”   Leonard shakes his head as he looks down at you, reaching out to stroke your cheek reassuringly.  You resist the urge to close your eyes and press against his hand, and instead look up at him steadily, your heart still pounding.

              “Oh Y/N, I could never hate you,” he says, shaking his head.  “Look… I’m gonna admit something to you, here.  Ever since the day you were installing new consoles in med bay and we chatted for most of the afternoon, I’ve wanted to spend time with you.  No, don’t interrupt me, just listen,” he says, as you open your mouth to counter him, and you close your mouth, chewing on your bottom lip as watch him.   “I thought you were charming, beautiful and I was already making plans to ask you out on this shore leave,” he says, and you stare at him in wonder.  You had no idea he’d caught feelings for you at all, let alone so early on, and you’re both startled and immeasurably happy to hear it.

              “I didn’t see you at for a couple of weeks after that, and I realized you were avoiding me when we met eyes in the hallway one day and you immediately ran off.”

              “I-” you start to say, trying to think of an excuse, because of course you  _were_  avoiding him, now feeling bad about it, but he shakes his head.

              “No, it’s fine, I was just confused, because I thought I’d gotten the same vibes from you that day.  So I let you have your space, but I didn’t like you any less.  When you mentioned that club the other day, I went there on purpose, hoping to see you, thinking maybe we could talk.  And then you were there, singing those words at me, and I knew that I hadn’t been wrong.  Trust me, I really was pleased.”

              “I- well, I’m glad,” you falter, swallowing as he looks down at you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

              “Jim said he saw you hightail it out of that bar soon after, though, and I realized you must have been feeling embarrassed,” he pauses, and you can feel yourself blushing again.  You nod at him, and he chuckles.  “I knocked on your door when I got back to the ship but you didn’t answer… I knew you’d have to come back eventually, with that hand, so I let you come to me.”

              “Well, I was trying  _not_  to come to you…” you say ruefully, thinking of Christine’s treachery.

              “Oh, I know, that’s why I told Christine what had happened. She already knew about the bar, of course, as she was in there somewhere with some of the other nurses-” you groan internally, not realizing she’d been there that night.  The embarrassment hadn’t completely worn off, after all, and the thought that more people you know had witnessed it just adds to the shame. “-and she correctly guessed about the feelings we had for each other.  She was only too happy to help me out.”   He winks at you, and you let out a noise of indignation.

              “So both of you were plotting against me?!  I am highly offended right now,” you say, but you’re trying not to smile and he knows it.  He pulls you close to him and looks down at you, tucking your hair behind your ear again and looking you in the eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

              “You can’t tell me you’re not pleased with the result,” he says, his voice low and soft now, looking at you in a way that makes you feel suddenly weak in the knees.  

              “No, no, I can’t say that I’m not,” you agree, your voice faltering slightly as he leans closer, smiling at the hitch in your voice. He wraps his arms around you, and both of your hands settle on his chest as he kisses you, more deeply this time. He tastes like spearmint and smells amazing and you melt into his arms, kissing him back fervently.  Tingles of excitement shoot through your body and you’re truly breathless this time when the kiss ends.  You’re pleased to see that he seems breathless as well, a nice change from his usual stoic countenance.

              He smiles and takes your hand, and as you continue walking, you reflect on how you can’t believe this turned out so incredibly well. You were scared he would never speak to you again, and now? Leonard McCoy was your boyfriend.  You really  _had_  seduced him, after all.  You giggle to yourself as you enter the mess hall, deciding that one day soon you’d have to regale him with your talents once more, but this time, in private.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review/leave a comment! I'd love to hear what you thought!


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